“They did.” I agreed. “The royal coffers must’ve taken a hit this year.”
“Maybe.” The woman agreed. “Need a partner?”
“I’m not much of a dancer.” I denied. “I just wanted to watch the show up close.”
“Suit yourself.” The woman said coyly, turning away.
“Fear not the tide of sorrow,” The Grand Priest continued, “For in life we find our salvation, the cacophony of voices, the beads of sweat borne from dance.”
This concluded the short speech. The dancers stepped up, preparing to begin the play. Shadows plunged the courtyard into darkness as the lanterns were doused, forcing all eyes upon the theater ship.
Something moved in the shadows across the waters. Leaning forward, I could see people running around near the walkways leading to the ship, but. . .
“May Brizo’s light grace us this night!” The Grand Priest stepped back, and the dancers began, knitting hands with their partners, their thick skirts swirling around the stage like a whirlwind.
Lunging forward, I seized my only chance: rip the Bloodstone from its socket while all eyes were on the dancers.
But someone else seized it first.
A man yelped nearby. I spun around to see the gaudy purple noble plunge a knife into a guard’s thigh, knocking him to his knees.
Fire erupted everywhere; heat struck my face like a sharp slap. Stumbling, I backed away from a circle of fire growing around the bust, trapping me inside its blazing cage.
Blood streamed through the air, whirling around the ship like red streamers. Fire followed the crimson, setting the blood alight.
Fear pounded through my heart. A chthonic mage?Here?
The red-haired woman stepped forward, a cut on her palm spilling fresh blood. It dripped from her fingers and hovered in the air like threads pulled by a loom, dancing in the circle of glowing fire.
Screaming consumed the boat as those aboard tripped over themselves in their bid to escape the flames.
Pressing a hand to my eyes, I blinked away the burning pain and focused on the woman. At home in her circle of fire, she sauntered up to the idol and grabbed the Maiden’s Bloodstone, yanking a few times before it clicked and pulled loose.
Thundering bootfalls slammed across the bridges as guards rushed the chaos. They hesitated outside the wall of flames, unwilling to throw their steel-cased bodies into the fire.
The red-haired woman whipped around, throwing her arm. A tiny opening appeared in the fiery cage, streams of crimson whirling around it as new pillars of flame erupted from the blood. Choking on smoke, I watched the red-haired woman dash through the opening as walls of fire rose to either side of her, creating a flaming hall leading off the ship.
She was fleeing withmystone! Pushing past the crowd of panicked nobles, I chased after her.
Shouting and heavy footfalls pursued us. Leaping over a fallen dancer, the red-haired woman landed on the western bridge and dashed into the darkness.
Sprinting after her, I couldn’t help but admire her gall. What was her plan? Pound through the crowd of people and guards and hope nobody stopped her? She reached the end of the bridge and glanced over her shoulder at me.
My foot slammed into something hard, and I tumbled onto metal. Pulling myself up, I realized what I had landed on: the crumpled body of a guard.
I caught a final glimpse of the woman’s red braid before she dove into the darkness swallowing the panicked crowd in the Sundering square.
No sooner had I dragged myself to my feet than a banshee’s wailing knifed into my heart. I pressed my hands to my ears, overcome with fear and an unbearable urge to run and never look back. What in the Maiden’s grace was that? A spell? But from what kind of mage?
The crowd screamed, scrambling in chaos, climbing over one another to escape the noise. A flash of fire briefly illuminated the dark world. A clearing appeared at the edge of the lake, the red-haired woman at its center.
The owl-masked man from before leaned out from an alley, waving to the woman. She raced toward him. Gasping, I followed, shouting futilely at them. “Wait!”
The brief spot of fire vanished, dousing the square into shadow once more. My feet struck stone, informing me I’d stepped off the bridge. Feeling my way toward the alley, I felt a gap in the stone buildings surrounding the square and slipped through.
Light waited in the distance, where streetlamps still burned with flame. Tearing toward them, I rounded the bend into another street and found myself at the tip of a scythe.
Not any mere scythe, forged of steel. This was a weapon of flowing blood and searing flame.
